Martin James M.B.E -Some Winter Sessions With Barbel, Chub & Perch

For my February feature, I am whisking you back in time, for a few days fishing in Berkshire on the River Kennet and also on a large gravel-pit. This month can often be a very difficult for coarse fishing, especially if we get a lot of snow, ice or rain, where such weather can often prevail for day after day, often into a week or more. It’s surprising how often, even in bad weather conditions, you can still catch fish. After completing my work in the studio, I headed off to the River Kennet around 7-30 hrs, a drive of some 250 miles in what can only be described as horrendous conditions; heavy rain,  strong winds that often buffeted my car. When on an exposed stretch of the motorway, the driving wasn’t helped by the spray from the lorries and coaches, so I just stayed in the driving lane all the way; I had no interest in driving about 70 m.p.h.

I didn’t stop until I pulled into the Tadley Angling shop’s car park, arriving around 13-00 hrs. The sky was leaden grey and the rain still sheeting down. Walking into the shop, Kevin said “Hello Martin. What are you doing today? You can’t fish the river; it’s over the bank in places.” My reply was: “Kevin, that’s what I was hoping you would say!” After a chat in front of a warming fire with a mug of tea and biscuits and also catching up on the news for about half an hour, I then headed off to my cabin, passing over the river Kennet. I could see the river was bank high, even over the bank in places and the water was the colour of khaki. I smiled to myself, thinking ‘A good chance of barbel and chub…’ Pulling up in front of the cabin, it felt like I was coming home; my cabin had a good gas fire, a small kitchen with fridge freezer and all mod cons.

First job was to get all my gear from the car which I needed in the cabin. Kate always makes me some cottage pies, also pots of beef stew. I kept one of the latter out for later on the river, the rest went into the fridge and freezer.  I was now self-sufficient for a week or more. With the kettle on for a fresh brew, I prepared some beans on toast. An hour later, I was feeling a lot better, raring to get on the river, taking my chest high waders, along with my waterproof coat, from the hook on the back of the door. I was soon kitted out to take on whatever the weather threw at me. Half an hour later I pulled into the riverside car park to find it deserted, which did surprise me.

It was time to take the water temperature; receiving a reading of 47 degrees F., I was more than happy. With bait bag over my shoulder, wading-staff in hand, I walked some two miles of the river bank, putting bait samples of cheese paste or sausage meat into several quiet areas of water, where it looked as if it would hold fish. As an experiment, I chose to two spots where I fed in some Pallatrax cheese paste. When I take it from the tub I find the paste on the hard side so I soften it up using margarine, then spend about fifteen minutes or so kneading the paste and margarine until I’d got a soft paste bait. Some anglers I know fish the cheese paste straight from the pot, moulding it around a cork ball fixed to a hair. It’s not my way of fishing a bait, though it does work.

Tackle set up

Back in the car park, I put together an 11’6″ soft-action rod and fixed-spool reel with 10lb line. I firmly believe you can tire a big fish better on a soft action rod rather than a broom handle job and I have no reason to use a rod with a 2.5lb test curve, when my 1.5lb test curve soft action rods do the job nicely. I have no problem in getting fish in the net in double quick time. Paul Rogers once watched me hook and land a barbel, then said: “I’ve never seen a fish netted so quickly, then immediately returned to the water, fighting fit.”

Rig and hook-link

A lot has been written about rigs and hook-link material over the years. I can’t say I take much notice; I try to keep everything simple. Today I tied a size four Pallatrax barbless hook direct to the line, then lightly pinched on three LG shot fifteen inches from the hook, which completes my tackle set up. During the course of my fishing sessions, I will use from one to six LG shot, also extending or shortening the distance between weight and hook, depending on the swim being fished.

With the light failing, I decided to have something to eat. I’d recently got myself a microwave oven which is powered by plugging into the cigarette lighter of the car. I then switched on the ignition. Yes, it takes a lot longer than the one used at the home but what’s an extra twenty minutes? It was ideal for heating up my beef stew. If you’re going to fish long sessions in winter, you will need a decent meal. My plan was to be on the river until gone midnight. Having finished dinner, I had a mug of tea with a slice of fruit cake.

Meal finished, I put a big chunk of sausage meat, then also a similar size chunk of cheese paste, into the bait bag. In my rucksack I had a spare head torch, a small tripod lamp with a swivelled head which I use to illuminate the rod top, my jet-boiler, mug, bottle of water, tea-bags and milk. I also had a large bin-liner to put my bait bag and rucksack in to keep them dry; I was now ready for the off. Slinging my chair and bag over my shoulder, I picked up rod, landing-net and rod-rest and headed off to a swim just downstream of the Bailey Bridge at the Dalston end of the fishery.

Catching barbel and chub

Having set up everything as I wanted, I put in half a dozen bits of sausage meat paste and then sat back for fifteen minutes, enjoying the peace after my long drive. It was a delightful mild evening but the rain was relentless; nothing that could stop me fishing. I baited with a large piece of soft, cheese paste, dropping it tight to the bank where, as I know from previous experience, I had a clean gravel bottom. Holding the rod with the line over my forefinger, I watched a robin in the fading light feeding on some gentles I’d thrown on the ground for the birds. Half an hour later I felt tension on the line, followed by a steady pull. Some people would say: “Perhaps it was rubbish on the line.” This was no rubbish as I set the hook into a nice fish and a few minutes later a barbel was in the net about eight pounds.

Baiting with another bit of paste, I dropped the baited hook back into the same spot. Laying the rod in the rest, I checked the water temperature; 47 degrees F. The river had risen about four inches since I arrived. Just at my back, in the wood, I heard a Muntjac deer bark. A pheasant also called, followed a few minutes later by an owl. Suddenly the rod pulled round two inches. Striking, I connected with another barbel about six pounds. I fished on until about eleven o’clock in what can only best be described as ideal barbel fishing conditions. In the past hour the wind had increased quite dramatically and in the distance I heard a tree crash to earth. I was getting concerned about my safety as I watched the trees on the opposite bank swaying to and fro. Having had six barbel plus five chub averaging around four pounds, I chose to leave. No way did I want a heavy branch to crash down on my car or myself; common sense had to prevail. Within half an hour of reaching the car, I was back in the cabin.

More barbel and chub

The next day I arrived on a different stretch of the Kennet, the river had over a foot of extra water, the weather was dry with a light breeze, water temperature was at 48 degrees F, today I would be on the river until late in the evening. It was going to be roving day, I certainly enjoyed catching a barbel from just 2 feet of water in a couple of swims on a free line paste bait, when hooked these fish boiled on the surface, before heading out into the faster deeper water. It was great fishing.

Moving from swim to swim, you find some don’t produce, in other spots, a fish would take a paste bait of sausage meat or cheese paste, there were times I needed 2 or 3 LG shot in some swims, other places 4 or 5 LG. The chub were also willing to feed, the extra water had created, several nice looking glides to fish. It was a successful day; I had five barbel, including a best at ten pounds four ounces, all on three different baits; cheese paste, sausage paste and a reddish brown coloured paste from Pallatrax.

The next day the water temperature was 50 degrees F, weather over cast and warm. Today I didn’t fish until the evening. I had a guest, Chris, who is 60 years of age, to look after. He was desperate to beat his previous barbel of seven pounds, caught back in the 1960s from the Hampshire Avon. Before we started fishing I got him to help me remove a twenty-foot tree that had crashed across part of the road. Knowing the fishery and shoot manager would be busy, I chose to do the job myself, with Chris’s help, in removing the obstruction. Getting the bow saw from my vehicle we set to work; an hour later the road was clear.

In the car park Chris put together an eleven-foot bamboo rod and fixed-spool reel with 10lb b.s. line, to which I attached a size four Pallatrax, barbless hook. In the first swim I pinched on four LG shot, then baited his hook with sausage meat paste. Half an hour later we are on the move. We fished a dozen ideal looking spots but for some reason the fish didn’t want to feed. I suppose this was understandable as the barbel I’d caught had big fat bellies. Occasionally I could see Chris getting a bit worried about not catching but I didn’t for one moment think that I would not get him a personal best; if he had an eight-pounder he would go home happy. My target, however, was to try for a double-figure fish.

I was happy with my experience on flooded rivers going back as far as the 1940s, enough to be unconcerned. Eventually we come to a spot where it’s normally eighteen inches deep over clean gravel; today, there was five feet of water. A tree had crashed in the water last year, creating a delightful crease with steady water close in. Using just two LG shot to allow the baited hook to swing slowly into the bank, I baited up with a two cricket-ball sized balls of mashed bread, then baited his hook with a chunk of crust.

Handing the rod to Chris, I said: “Drop the bait in the swim just upstream of the tree trunk. Don’t worry about any leaves on the line, they won’t cover the hook bait as I’ve added a shot three feet up the line.” A few minutes later he had a light pluck. I said: “That’s a fish.” A minute or so later his tip slowly pulled round; Chris said: “Is that weed?” I said: “No, that’s a bite. Strike!” He connected with a heavy fish which I knew immediately was a good barbel as it hugged the bottom.

I then instructed Chris what to do. “Move upstream, lower the rod a bit. Come down this way. Mind those branches in the water. Keep its head up.” Then I said: “I’ve got it!” as the fish went into the net. I then went to borrow Mike’s scales and weigh-sling. Back in the swim, I zeroed the scales with the weighing-net and we gently eased the fish from the landing net, hoisting the weighing-net and fish onto the scales. We got a reading of twelve pounds two ounces; for Chris a personal best by a long way. An hour later with no more fish Chris went off home a very happy angler.

I then went off to a local carvery. Within an hour I was back, this time it’s just me who was going to fish. Despite the darkness, I chose to rove down one side of the river to the Bailey Bridge, then up the opposite bank. I used my soft action rod, fixed spool reel, ten pound line and size four Pallatrax hook. Baits again were either cheese paste or sausage meat. It was a long evening session and it was gone midnight when I left the river, having caught four barbel, the best being 9-14, along with three chub averaging around four pounds. As I walked back to the car under a clear sky, I noticed the odd area with signs of frost. Back at the car, I could see a light frost on the screenalso. As I drove down the long track to the cabin I spotted some cat-ice on the puddles. Inside the cabin it felt cold but within ten minutes of switching on the gas fire, it was all snug and comfortable.

The next day the water temperature dropped four degrees F and the fish were hard to tempt; all my previous fish had had a big gut where they had been avidly feeding. I suppose they didn’t need to feed and I had just one bite, a chub of four pounds twelve ounces on bread crust at dusk. I fished a dozen or more spots and had just more bite which I missed. For the first time in a very long time, I packed up a couple of hours after dark and the weather had turned very cold with an easterly breeze. The sky was clear, which I reckon would result in a heavy frost, in fact the landing-net was frozen to the ground. I reckon I made the right choice, as I was unlikely to catch. I could see some cloud starting to appear and hopefully this would be a sign of warmer weather. Back in the cabin, with the gas fire on, I had some bacon and eggs with three slices of butted toast and a mug of OXO, adding a dash of pepper.

Next morning, looking out of the cabin window, the countryside was covered in frost with snowflakes falling.  I was certainly thankful for my forces sleeping-bag last night. After a cold-water wash etc, I had a brew and then went off into Newbury for breakfast: I couldn’t be bothered to cook. After breakfast, I went off to Kevin’s for a chat.

The sky was leaden grey and Kevin said: “Martin, It looks like snow.” An hour later, as I left Kevin’s shop, it had indeed started snowing. Looking back, it was similar weather conditions to many years before when the ferry, the Herald of Free Enterprise had famously capsized just after leaving Zeebrugge. I was on the Kennet when that had happened, where I had similar weather conditions to those of today. On the drive home that evening, I well remember the snow covered roads. I often thought: “Should I stop at an hotel for the night?”

Leaving Kevin’s shop, I chose to fish the Newbury water for a two or three hours where I had two small chub around a pound mark on crust. I then decided to go and fish the Enborne, stopping off at a café on the way.  On the Enborne I had three perch, the best of which might have weighed a pound if I was lucky. Back in the cabin I asked myself: “Should I go home in the morning?” After a lot of thought, I decided to go and see if I could catch some perch or roach from a gravel-pit next morning, one which I had permission to fish.

Perch and Lobworms

Today, with the temperature having plummeted even more overnight, I could see a good covering of snow on the road. Having made breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and beans with some toast and tea, I decided to have a look at the gravel-pit where I’dcaught some good fish in the past. Arriving at the water, my first glance suggested to me that it didn’t look fishable; all I could see was an ice covered expanse of water. Thankfully, I chose to walk around the lake, probably more for the exercise than anything else. Eventually I came to an area of ice-free water about thirty feet wide by some twenty yards long, in front of a large bed of Norfolk reeds. I said to myself: “That’s fishable.” 

Back in the car, I drove off to Tadley Angling for some lobworms and red gentles. Then, returning to car-park, I chopped up about forty worms and added a good drop of Pallatrax earthworm which is best described as being a thick dark liquid. To this I added some powdered milk to make a sloppy mix, which I would ball up and throw into the swim. Then it was back to Aldermaston for some milk and one of their special pasties and then it was back to Tadley Angling for more lobworms and also a pint of red gentles.

Once at the gravel-pit, I put on the kettle. While I was waiting for it to boil I put together my Milwards Swim Master twelve foot float rod, centre pin reel with four pound b.s. line. Threading the line through the guides, I added a rubber float-stop on the line, then passed the line through the eye of a 2AAA sliding waggler float, then added a size eight Pallatrax barbless hook. Plumbing the depth, I found between six and seven feet of depth, setting the float at six feet. I adjusted the bottom float-stop so the bait would be visible even with the small patches of weed I had in the swim. Two AAA shot were then pinched on the line, two feet from the hook.

After throwing in more broken worm slop, I scattered a handful of red gentles and baited with a large lobworm. Using a Wallis cast, I dropped the bait foot from the edge of the ice. I then pushed the rod-tip under the water to sink the line. Within five minutes the float lifted a fraction, then dipped below the surface. I tightened into a good fishand soon a perch well over the two pound mark was in the net. Zeroing the weigh bag I placed the fish inside and watched the needle go round to two pounds thirteen ounces. Baiting with another worm, I scattered a few more red gentles into the swim and cast out. This time the float had not even settled before it disappeared; fish number two was hooked. Another good perch was soon netted and weighed two pounds twelve ounces.

More of the sloppy chopped worms mix was thrown in, along with red gentles. Baiting with a lob I cast to the same area where a fish hit the bait just under the surface. On striking, I realised here was a better fishand this one weighed exactly three pounds. This was followed by what can only be described as ‘Some very exciting fishing!’ In eight casts I then hooked eight fish, landing seven. The best was a perch of three pounds four ounces which I placed in a large carp and catfish netted bag. This was lowered in some deep water, hoping I might get another good three pounder.

More chopped worms and gentles went in and I could now see fish in the gin-clear water, snatching the worms and gentles in just two feet of water below the surface. Baiting with two lobs, I had four pieces of worm hanging from the hook and I made a gentle cast, dropping the bait on the far side of the swim. As the bait started to sink, I drew the float back towards me which caused the worms to rise in the water. I watched a perch savagely grab the worms, then shake its head vigorously, as I set the hook. This one weighed two pounds fifteen ounces, so not quite a three.

Two more casts brought two fish with the second fish certainly a three pounder as I watched it twist, turn then dive for the bottom. The well balanced tackle was the winner as I netted another good perch. On the scales I got a reading of three pounds five ounces and this was placed in the net with the previous three pound four ounce fish. 

Within twenty minutes the fish had departed. In the next two hours, I could not get any touch, however hard I tried. I wasn’t going to complain as I’d caught fourteen perch between two pounds ten ounces and three pounds nine ounces. Could life get better? I don’t think so! I didn’t even notice the icy cold easterly wind or the snowflakes falling to earth, neither did I notice the ice-free water disappearing as I fished. I headed off to the cabin and after a break with something to eat, I loaded up the car and headed off home. It had been certainly an enjoyable few days. The photographs, other than the perch, are all from the Kennet.

Writing & Images – Martin James M.B.E. February 2024